CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(l\/lonographs) 


ICI\/IH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographles) 


Canadian  Inttituta  tor  Hittoricjl  Microraproductiona  /  Inatitut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  hiitoriquaa 


996 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  technique  et  bibllographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  (or  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


0 


D 
D 


D 


Coloured  covers  / 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I     I  Covers  damaged  / 

'  —I  Couverture  endommagte 

I     I  Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 

— '  Couverture  restauree  et/ou  pellicula 

I     I  Cover  title  missing /Letitrede  couverture  manque 

rn  Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  giographiques  en  couleur 

I     I  Coloured  lnl(  (I.e.  other  than  blue  or  Wack)  / 

Encie  de  cou,eur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

r^  Coloured  plates  antt/or  lllustratkjns  / 

' — '  Planches  et/ou  Illustrations  en  couleur 

I     I  Bound  with  other  material  / 

' — '  Reli*  avec  d'autres  documents 


Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  edition  disponlble 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin  /  La  rellure  serrie  peut 
causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de 
la  marge  intdrieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoiatnns  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
been  omitted  from  filming  /  II  se  peut  que  certaines 
pages  blanches  ajouttes  k>is  d'une  restauratlon 
apparaissent  dans  le  texte,  mais,  kxsque  cela  6taJt 
P(»sible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  ^  (ilintes. 


L'Institut  a  microfilme  le  meilleur  examplaire  qu'il  lui  a 
ete  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire  qui  sont  peut-4tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifie'  une  Image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modifications  dans  la  meth- 
ode  normale  de  fllmage  sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 

I     I      Coloured  pages  /  Pages  de  couleur 

I     I      Pages  damaged/ Pages endommagees 

I     I      Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
' — '      Pages  restaur«es  et/ou  pellcultes 

r^     Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
"^      Pages  decotor6es,lachet«esoupiqu6es 

I     I      Pages  detached  /  Pages  d«tach«es 

rT'    Showthrough/ Transparence 

n/(     Quality  of  print  varies  / 

' — '      Qualiti  inegale  de  I'impression 

I     I      Includes  supplementary  material ' 

Comprend  du  materiel  suppldmentaire 

I  I  Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
' — '  slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  retllmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image  /  Les  pages 
totalement  ou  partiellement  obscurcles  par  un 
feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure,  etc.,  ont  Hi  fllm^s 
i  nouveau  de  fa^on  k  obtenir  la  meilleure 
image  possible. 

I  I  Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
' — '  discolouratlons  are  filmed  tvnce  to  ensure  the 
best  possible  Image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant 
ayant  des  colorations  variables  ou  des  decol- 
orations sont  fllm^es  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la 
meilleur  image  possible. 


D 


Adcitionat  comments  / 
CommentaJres  suppl^mentajres: 


This  i 

Ctdo 

lOX 

Mm  it 
cufini 

fjlmt 

ItMt 

dntt 
filmt 

Iwrtd 
•u  ta 

uction  ratio  ditekad  btkm/ 

i«  dt  cMuetion  indiqtii  ci-dtnous 

18X 

22X 

»X 

»X 

J 

~ 

12X 

16X 

20X 

24X 

28  X 

32X 

Th(  copy  filmtd  h«r*  hat  bMn  raproduead  thanki 
to  tha  aanaroaity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'aiiamplaira  film*  fut  raproduit  grlca  t  la 
gAnaroiit*  da: 

Blbliotheque  nationals  du  Canada 


Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  batt  quality 
poatibia  Gonaidaring  tha  condition  and  laglbillty 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  apacificationa. 


Original  capiat  in  prlntad  papar  covara  ara  fllmad 
baglnning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  latt  paga  with  a  prlntad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
tion.  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  coplaa  ara  fllmad  baglnning  on  tha 
firtt  paga  with  a  printad  or  Illuatratad  Impraa- 
tion.  and  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  with  a  prlntad 
or  illuatratad  impraaaion. 


Tha  laat  racordad  frama  on  aach  microfieha 
than  contain  tha  lymbol  -^  Imaaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  tymbol  ▼  Imaaning  "END"), 
whiehavar  appliaa. 

Mapa.  plataa,  charta,  ate,  may  ba  fllmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratioa.  Thota  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  includad  in  ona  axpotura  ara  fllmad 
baglnning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar,  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  at  many  framat  aa 
raqulrad.  Tha  following  diagramt  illuatrata  tha 
mathod: 


Lat  imagat  tulvantaa  ont  ttt  raproduitai  avac  la 
plut  grand  tain,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nanata  da  I'axamplaira  film*,  at  an 
conformlta  avac  laa  conditiont  du  contrat  da 
fllmaga. 

Laa  axamplairaa  originaua  dont  la  couvartura  an 
papiar  aat  imprimta  tont  fllmtt  an  commancant 
par  la  pramlar  plat  at  an  tarmlnant  loit  par  la 
darnitra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'Impratilon  ou  d'illuttratlon,  toit  par  la  tacond 
plat,  talon  la  caa.  Tout  laa  autrat  axamplairat 
orlginauii  tont  fllmat  an  commancant  par  la 
pramiara  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'Impraatlon  ou  d'illuttratlon  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darniira  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 

Un  daa  tymbolaa  tulvantt  tpparaltra  tur  la 
darnitra  Imaga  da  chaqua  microfieha.  talon  la 
cat:  la  tymbola  — » tignifia  "A  SUIVRE",  la 
tymbola  ▼  tignifia  "FIN". 

Lat  cartat,  planchat,  tablaaux,  ate,  pauvant  itra 
fllmaa  1  dat  taux  da  raduction  diffaranti. 
Lortqua  la  documant  att  trap  grand  pour  itra 
raproduit  an  un  taul  cllcha,  11  att  filmt  ^  ptrtir 
da  I'angia  tupiriaur  gaucha,  da  gaucha  i  droita. 
at  da  haut  an  bat.  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagat  nacattaira.  Lat  diagrammat  tuivantt 
illuttrant  la  mathoda. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MKxocorr  risoiution  tbt  chart 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


^  APPLIED  IM/JGE    In 

^^^  1653  East  Moin  Street 

^^^  Rochester,    N«w   York         14609       USA 

rj^  C?16)   *82  -  0300  -  Phone 

^S  (716)  2B8  -  5989  -  Fo. 


Tangled  in  Stars 


"^. 


If     ^— ^  - 
Poems       ^  I     Etheiwyn 
h  '\  M^etherald 


Boston:  Richard  G.  Badger 

The  Gorham  Press:  1902 


Copyright  190J  by 
Fthelwyn   Wethewld 

'  Rights  Rntrve J   7105-X' 


Alii 


Printed  at  The  Gorham  Press,  Boston 


TO  MY  COMRADE 

Down  to  thy  bre  st  'he  leaves  slip, 
When  we  twain  in  comradeship, 
Go  with  the  breeze  under  the  trees 
^  Out  in  the  wood  where  the  heart  belongs 
so  to  thy  breast,  thus  leaf-caresse.  I,  ' 

Fly  all  my  little  leafy  songs. 


CONTENTS 


Tangled  in  Stars 

The  Leaves 

Among  the  Leaves 

At  Waiting 

A  March  Night 

The  First  Bluebird 

The  Rain 

Flower  and  Flame 

The  Sunflowers 

Home     .... 

The  Plowman 

In  Summer  Rain     - 

Boating  by  Starlight 

From  my  Window 

Green  Boughs  of  Home 

The  Wild  Jessamine 

Out-Door  Air 

June        .... 

The  Pasture  Field 

In  June 

Home-Sickness 

The  Song  Sparrow's  Nest 

Summer  in  the  City    . 

In  August 

The  Budding  Child    - 


9 

lo 

10 

II 

II 

12 

'3 
>4 

■S 


>7 
i8 
iS 
>9 

20 
2t 
21 
22 
23 
24 
25 
26 
26 
27 


Separation 

Earth's  Silences 

The  Chickadee 

The  Indigo  Bird 

The  Fisherman 

The  Little  Noon 

The  Long  Days  of  the  Year 

Stars  and  Flowers 

At  Dusk 

Yesterday  and  To-day 

An  Old.  Influence    - 

If  One  Might  Live     - 

The  Roads  of  Old 

The  Silent  Snow 

November 

Unheard  Niagaras 

Song       -        -        -        . 

Winter  Sunset     • 

The  Deserted  House 

November  and  December 

A  Winter  Picture    - 

The  Passing  Year 


23 

29 
30 
3' 
32 
33 
34 
35 
35 
36 
36 
37 
38 
39 
40 
40 
41 
41 
42 
44 
44 
45 


TANGLED  IN  STARS 


TANGLED  IN  STARS 

Tangled  in  stars  and  spirit-steeped  in  dew 
The  city  worker  to  his  desk  returns 
While  'mid  the  stony  streets  remembrance  burns. 

Like  honeysuckle    running  through  and  througl^ 

A  barren  hedge.     He  lifts  his  load  anew, 
And  carries  it  amid  the  thronging  ferns 
And  crowding  leaves  of  memory,  while  yearns 

Above  him  once  again  the  open  blue. 

His  letter-littered  desk  goes  up  in  flowers- 
The  world  recedes,  and  backward  dreamily 
Come  days  and  nights,  like  jewels  rare  and  few. 
And  while  the  consciousness  of  those  bright  hours 
Abides  with  him,  we  know  him  yet  to  be 
Tangled  in  stars  and  spirit-steeped  in  dew 


THE  LEAVES 

When  with  an  airy  covering 

Around  the  summer's  woodland  wall, 
Or  wreathing  all  the  doors  of  spring, 

Or  painting  all  the  paths  of  fall. 

The  leaves  go  on  their  lovely  ways. 
With  naught  to  ask,  with  all  to  give. 

They  make  for  me  the  empty  days 
Of  winter  lonelier  to  live. 


AMONG  THE  LEAVES 

The  near  sky,  the  under  sky. 

The  low  sky  that  I  love! 
I  lie  where  fallen  leaves  lie. 

With  a  leafy  sky  above. 
And  draw  the  colored  leaves  nigh, 
And  push  the  withered  leaves  by. 
And  feel  the  woodland  heart  upon  me, 

Brooding  like  a  dove. 

The  bright  sky,  the  moving  sky. 
The  sky  that  autumn  weaves. 

I  see  where  scarlet  leaves  fly 
The  sky  the  wind  bereaves. 

I  see  the  ling'ring  leaves  die, 

I  hear  the  dying  leaves  sigh. 

And  breathe  the  woodland  breath 
Made  sweet  of  all  her  scented  leaves. 


AT  WAKING 

When  I  shall  go  to  sleep  and  wake  again 
At  dawning  in  another  world  than  this, 
What  will  atone  to  me  for  all  I  miss? 

The  light  melodious  footsteps  of  the  rain 

The  press  of  leaves  against  my  window  pane, 
I  he  sunset  wistfulness  and  morning  bliss 
The  moon's  enchantment  and  the  twilight  kiss 

Ut  winds  that  wander  with  me  through  the  lane. 

Will  not  my  soul  remember  evermore 

The  earthly  winter's  hunger  for  the  spring 
_      The  wet  sweet  cheek  of  April,  and  the  rush 
Ut  roses  through  the  summer's  open  door' 
The  feelings  that  the  scented  woodland's  brine 
At  evening  with  the  singing  of  the  thrush? 


A  MARCH  NIGHT 

A  wild  wind  and  a  flying  moon. 
And  drifts  that  shrink  and  cower- 

A  heart  that  leaps  at  the  thought,  How  soon 
The  earth  will  be  in  flower. 

Behind  the  gust  and  the  ragged  cloud 
And  the  sound  of  loosening  floods, 

I  see  young  May  with  her  fair  head  bowed, 
Walking  in  a  world  of  buds. 


THE  FIRST  BLUEBIRD 

First,  first! 
That  was  thy  song  that  burst 
Out  of  the  spring  of  thy  heart, 
Incarnate  spring  that  thou  art! 
Now  must  the  winter  depart. 
Since  to  his  age-heavy  ear 
Fluteth  the  youth  of  the  year. 

Low,  low. 
Delicate,  musical,  slow; 
Lighten,  O  heaven  that  lowers, 
Blossom,  ye  fields  into  flowers. 
Thicken,  ye  branches  to  bowers; 
And  thou,  O  my  heart,  like  a  stone. 
Wilt  thou  keep  winter  alone? 

Sweet,  sweet. 
But  there  is  lead  in  the  feet. 
No  spring  thoughts  in  the  head, 
But  wintry  burdens  instead. 
Nay,  they  are  gone,  they  have  fled. 
Fled  while  the  bluebird  sung; 
The  earth  and  the  heart  are  young. 


THE  RAIN 

I  heard  my  lover  pleading 

Beneath  the  ivied  pane, 
I  looked  out  through  the  darkness 

And  lo,  it  was  the  rain! 

I  heard  my  lover  singing 
His  low  heart-stirring  songs, 

I  went  without  and  sought  him 
To  whom  my  soul  belongs. 

I  found  him  in  the  darkness, 
His  tears  were  on  my  face; 

O  sweet,  your  voice  has  oierced  me. 
And  your  unhurrying  pace. 

He  gave  me  as  we  wandered 
Adown  the  winding  lane, 

A  thousand  tender  touches 
And  that  heart-stirring  strain. 

The  lamps  and  fires  and  faces 

No  longer  did  I  see; 
I  walked  abroad  with  Music 

.\nd  Love  and  Poetry. 


>3 


FLOWER  AND  FLAME 

Between  the  flowering  and  the  flaming  woods, 
All  greening  in  the  rain 

The  fields  unfold, 
The  sun  upon  the  grain 
Outpours  its  gold, 
And  sweet  with  bloom  and  dew  are  nature's  moods 
Between  the  flowering  and  the  flaming  woods. 

Between  the  flaming  and  the  flowering  woods 
The  wind  bemoans  a  host 

Of  withered  leaves, 
The  winter  is  a  ghost 
That  grieves  and  grieves 
Around  a  ruined  house  whtre  none  intrudes. 
Between  the  flaming  and  the  flowering  woods. 

O  woods  that  break  in  flower  or  in  flame. 
My  winged  days  and  hours 

Shall  meet  their  doom 
Like  to  your  leaves  and  flowers; 
Let  not  your  bloom 
And  brightness  put  my  flying  years  to  shame, 
O  woods  that  break  in  flower  or  in  flamel 


14 


THE  SUNFLOWEP.S 
When  lamps  are  out  and  voices  fled 
And  moonlight  floods  the  earth  like  rain, 
I  steal  outside  and  cross  the  lane 
And  stand  beside  the  sunflower  bed- 
Each  blind,  unopened  face  is  turned 
1  o  where  the  western  -lories  burned 

VVi'^h  [^"^l'  "'^    "1  '"'S'''  come  again, 
With  some  last  wcrd  he  left  unsaid 

When  Dawn  with  slender  shining  hand 
Inscribes  a  message  on  the  wall, 
I  follov/  at  the  silent  call 

To  where  my  tall  sun-lovers  stand 

fheir  wistful  heads  are  lifted  hi<'h 

Toward  the  flaming  eastern  sk)" 
As  though  some  voice  had  turned  them  all 

Some  secret  voice  of  strong  command.  ' 

Ah,^  should  I  from  the  windowed  height 

Keep  vijil  in  the  room  above. 

And  see  them  lightly,  surely  move 
Through  the  chill  stretches  of  the  night. 
Would  r  ot  the  heart  within  me  burn. 
As  oyally  I  watched  them  turn. 

With  sweet  undoubting  faith  and  love 
I'rom  vanished  light  to  dawning  light' 


HOME 

Wherever  on  far  distant  farms 
The  orchard  trees  lift  bounteous  arms, 
The  lane  is  grape-leaved,  woodland  dense, 
The  chipmunk  leaps  the  zigzag  fence. 
The  horses  from  the  plow's  last  round 
Drink  with  a  deep  sweet  cooling  sound, 
And  with  the  thin  young  moon  afloat 
Comes  up  the  frog's  heart-easing  note. 
And  tree  toads'  endless  melody, 

Oh  that  is  home, 

Is  restful  home  to  me. 

Whenever  on  a  distant  street 
Two  charmful  eyes  I  chance  to  meet. 
The  look  of  one  that  knows  the  grace 
Of  every  change  on  nature's  face; 
Whose  sealike  soul  is  open  wide 
To  breezes  from  the  farther  side. 
Whose  voice  arid  movement  seem  to  give 
The  knowledge  of  how  best  to  live 
And  how  to  live  most  happily, 

Oh  that  is  home, 

Is  blessed  home  to  me. 


THE  PLOWMAN 

I  heard  the  plowman  sing  in  the  wind, 

And  sing  right  merrily. 
As  down  in  the  cold  of  the  sunless  mould, 

The  grasses  buried  he. 

And  now  the  grasses  sing  in  the  wind. 

Merrily  do  they  sing; 
While  down  in  the  cold  of  the  sunless  mould, 

Is  the  plowman  slumbering. 

i6 


IN  SUMMER  RAIN 
Hovv  vivid')-  in  summer  rain 

I  he  commonest  of  tints  are  seen- 
I  he  robin  IS  a  scarlet  stain 

Again, t  the  shining  evergreen. 

^Thi?l-'il"u?''?"''"'-'«^-»  score 

R  Jn  «  '''''>^'"d  the  reddening  leaves- 

Ram-flushed  wind-tossed,  are  wfitfng  for 

Red-I.pped  or  redder-breasted  thieves 
The  willows,  pallid  in  the  sun, 

Are  sunny  in  the  rainy  dark 
A  deeper  brown  the  streamlets  run 

An-1  deeply  black  the  orchard  bark. 

And  yet,  although  the  clouds  are  gray, 
These  freshening  tint,  of  every  hue 
Would  intimate  a  rain  at  play     ^ 
Or  at  the  worst  a  storm  of  dew. 
The  quality  of  mercy  flows 

Upon  the  meadows'  thirsty  brood. 
And  every  brightening  grass  blade  shows 
The  quality  of  gratitude. 


17 


BOATING  BY  STARLIGHT 

The  breeze  has  washed  m*  clean  of  cares, 
The  night  has  broken  Labor's  bars; 

My  soul  and  I  through  heavenly  airs 
Are  voyaging  among  the  stars. 

Soft  shadows  wrap  the  shore,  the  lake. 
The  pier,  the  bridge,  the  gazing  eyes. 

In  splendid  loneliness  we  take 
This  jewelled  journey  through  the  skies. 


FROM  MY  WINDOW 

(IN  SHHi.vr. ) 

The  plums  and  cherries  are  in  bloom, 
The  apple  trees  are  on  the  brink 
Of  swimming  in  a  sea  of  pink; 

The  grass  is  thick'ning  like  the  gloom 
Of  winter  twilights,  and  from  far 
Each  dandelion  is  a  star. 

The  birds  fill  all  the  air,  and  one 
Is  building  at  my  window  sill. 

Across  the  lane  the  squirrels  run. 
And  like  a  p  )et's  ghost,  so  still 
And  spirit  white,  a  butterfly 
Appears  and  slowly  wavers  by. 

Beyond  the  pine  trees,  tall  and  dark, 
Across  the  lower  orchard,  where 
The  honey-laden  peach  and  pear 

Give  to  the  bees  their  burden— hark ! 
Swift  flies  the  thunderous  express. 
And  leaves  more  quiet  quietness. 


i8 


GRKK.V  HOUGHS  OF  HOXIK 

Green  boughs  of  home,  that  come  between 
Mme  eye,  and  this  far  distant  scene 

Your  old  serene  familiar  shapeii 
Each  lissom  willow  tree  that  dips 
Into  the  stream  her  golden  whips, 
The  sassafras  beside  the  gate 
Where  twilight  strollers  linger  late; 

The  hemlock  groups  that  dimly  hold 
Their  own  against  the  noonday  gold, 
rhe  maple   mes  that  give  the  Wew 
A  green  or  luminous  avenues 

Those  oldest  apple  trees  whose  forms 
Have  braved  a  hundred  years  of  storms. 
And  turn  a  face  a.  blithe  and  free 
io  greet  their  second  century; 

The  younger  orchard's  heavy  edge 
Fr,?r«'''."!,''"''°"">'°'^"='"'edjfe; 
Fruit-Hushed,  snow-burdened  or  bloombri  ^ht 
It  comes  to  my  home-longing  sight; 

The  billowy  woods  across  the  road, 

"here  all  the  winds  of  heaven  strode 
And  sang  in  every  towering  stem, 
Would  that  I  were  at  home^with  ihem! 

For  under  these  down-bend.ng  boughs 
A  thousand  tender  memories  house^ 

Vonr'ni     ^'T  f''.  ^"""P^nions  roam, 

Vour  peace  be  theirs,  green  boughs  of  horn.- 


•9 


THE  WILD  JESSAMINE 

(IN  THE  SOUTH) 

The  sun  of  March  is  hot  and  bold, 

The  rain  of  March  is  loud. 
O  jessamine,  your  cups  of  gold 

Uplift  to  sun  and  cloud; 
To  song  of  bird,  to  breath  of  herd, 

To  light  and  wind  and  dew. 
Lift  up,  lift  up,  the  golden  cup. 

And  bid  me  drink  with  you! 

The  woods  of  March  are  hung  with  green, 

The  green  is  hung  with  bloom; 
The  olive  boughs,  O  jessamine, 

Let  all  your  gold  illume. 
To  woodland  wine — the  drink  that  pine 

And  oak,  and  yeupon  brew — 
Lift  up,  lift  up  the  golden  cup. 

And  let  me  drink  with  you! 

The  breath  of  March  is  violet  sweet. 

The  arms  of  March  are  soft; 
O  jessamine,  the  time  is  fleet, 

Lift  all  your  cups  aloft! 
To  looks  that  make  the  spirit  ache — 

That  pierce,  deny,  pursue — 
Lift  up,  lift  up  the  golden  cup. 

And  I  will  drink  with  you! 


OrT-DOOR  AIR 
TTu  '"?',"S  to  the  cottage  eaves 

Ana  0.  the  buddi„:iTh:t?Ei::°  x^-^e. 

ThougK  armed  with  weapons  of  the  icv  north 

o'ftc:le1l7,^''"™^»' '"''•""  ■•■.=.. 
°"L'3ar£aT£tSr:.:?ji^X.n. 

JUNE 
Before  the  green  wheat  turneth  yellow 
Before  the  green  leaf  reddeneth, 
ifrM'^^"  glasses  fade  in  death, 
Before  the  green  corn  comes  in  ear 
Then  is  the  keen  time, 

Then  IS  the  queen  time, 
I  hen  ,s  the  green  time  of  the  year. 

Betre  IT^  'Nimble-berries  thicken, 
Before  young  grapes  be-in  to  quicke-, 
Be  ore  young  robins  flutter  doln.  ' 
Before  young  bu^ernuts  embrown 

Before  young  love  has  grown  too  dear 

I  hen  are  the  long  days 

Then  are  the  song  days, 
Then  are  the  young  days  of  the  year. 


THE  PASTURE  FIELD 

When  spring  has  burned 

The  ragged  robe  of  winter,  stitch  by  stitch, 
And  deftly  turned 

To  moving  melody  the  wayside  ditch, 
The  pale  green  pasture  field  behind  the  bars 
Is  goldened  o'er  wich  dandelion  stars. 

When  summer  keeps 

Quick  pace  with  sinewy,  white-shirted  arms, 
And  daily  steeps 

In  sunny  splendor  all  her  spreading  farms. 
The  pasture  field  is  flooded  foamy  white 
With  daisy  faces  looking  at  the  light. 

When  autumn  lays 

Iter  golden  wealth  upon  the  forest  floor, 
And  all  the  days 

Look  backward  at  the  days  that  went  before, 
A  pensive  company,  the  asters,  stand, 
Their  blue  eyes  brightening  the  pasture  land. 

When  winter  lifts 

A  sounding  trumpet  to  his  strenuous  lips. 
And  shapes  the  drifts 

To  curves  of  transient  loveliness,  he  slips 
Upon  the  pasture's  ineffectual  brown 
A  swan-soft  vestment  delicate  as  down. 


IN  JUNE 

The  trees  are  full,  the  winds  are  tame, 
I  he  fields  are  pictures  in  a  frame 
Of  leafy  roads  and  fair  abodes, 
Steeped  in  content  too  large  for  name. 

Across     slender  bridge  of  night 
The  luminous  days  are  swift  in  Hight, 

As  though  'twere  wrong  to  cover  son^^ 
And  scent  and  greenness  from  the  light' 

Within  the  snowy  clouds  above 
Sits  viewless  Peace,  a  brooding  dove- 
For  every  nest  there  beats  a  breast, 
±'or  every  love  some  answering  love. 

The  ways  are  thronged  with  angel  win^s 
The  heart  with  angel  whisperings;        ° 

'ru'^'15  j^  ''  ^^'^'"^ '"  ''^PPy  dreams 
Ihe  bird  of  gladness  sings  and  sings. 


23 


HOME-SICKNESS 

At  twilight  on  this  unfamiliar  street, 
With  its  affronts  to  aching  ear  and  eye, 
I  think  of  restful  ease  in  fields  that  lie 

Untrodden  by  a  myriad  fevered  feet. 

O  green  and  dew  and  stillness!     O  retreat 

Thick-leaved  and  squirrel-haunted!     By  and  by 
I  too  shall  follow  all  the  thoughts  that  fly 

Bird-like  to  you,  and  find  you,  ah,  how  sweet. 

Not  yet — not  yet.     To-night  it  almost  seems 
That  I  am  hasting  up  the  hemlock  lane. 

Up  to  the  door,  the  lamp,  the  face  that  pales 
And   warms   with   sudden   joy.       But   these    are 
dreams; 
I  lean  on  memory's  breast,  and  she  is  fain 
To  soothe  my  yearning  with  her  tender  tales. 


24 


THE  SONG  SPARROWS  NEST 

Here  where  tumultuous  vines 

Shadow  the  porch  at  the  west. 
Leaf  with  tendril  entwines 

Under  a  song  sparrow's  nest. 
J"f' «  fhe  height  of  my  heart, 

When  I  am  loitering  near. 
And,  exaggeration  apart, 

Almost  equally  dear. 

She  in  her  pendulous  nook 

Sways  on  the  warm  wind  tide, 
1  with  a  pen  or  a  book 

Rock  as  soft  at  her  side 
Comrades  with  nothing  to  say 

Neither  of  us  intrudes. 
But  through  the  lingering  day 

Each  of  us  sits  and  broods. 

Not  upon  hate  and  fear, 

Not  upon  grief  or  doubt, 
Not  upon  spite  or  sneer, 

These  we  could  never  hatch  out. 
■^/le  broods  on  wonderful  things  ■ 

Quickening  life  that  belongs 
lo  a  heart  and  a  voice  and  wings, 

But— I'm  not  so  sure  of  my  songs  ! 

Then  in  the  summer  night, 

When  I  awake  with  a  start, 
I  think  of  the  nest  at  the  height— 

The  leafy  height  of  my  heart; 
I  think  of  the  mother  love, 

Of  the  patient  wings  close  furled, 
Ut  the  sky  that  broods  above. 

Of  the  love  that  broods  on  the  world 


25 


SUMMER  IN  THE  CITY 

"If  I  were  out  of  prison" — ah!  the  leap 
That   Arthur's   heart   gave   with    its    yearning 
strong — 

"If  I  were  out  of  prison  and  kept  sheep, 
I  should  be  merry  as  the  day  is  long." 

O  little  prince,  whose  feet  were  strange  to  grass. 
Whose  royal  hands  no  dandelions  knew, 

Whose  wistful  child-eyes  saw  no  seasons  pass, 
Within  the  city  walls  I  think  of  you; 

For  here  on  pavements  hot  to  work  I  creep, 

Walls,  roofs  and  chimneys  at  my  window  throng; 

Ah,  were  I  out  of  prison  and  kept  sheep, 
I  should  be  merry  as  the  day  is  long! 


IN  AUGUST 

Now  when  the  grove  is  stifled  to  the  core, 
And  all  the  parchtd  grass  is  summer-killed, 
I  think  of  vehement  March,  and  how  she  tilled 

These  arid  roadsides  with  a  murmurous  pour 

Of  rushing  streiiis  from  an  exhaustless  store. 
This  breathl-ss  air  to  tropic  slumber  stilled, 
Recalls  those  early  passionate  winds  that  thrilled 

The  spirit,  blending  with  the  water's  roar. 

Just  as  in  rich  and  dusty-leaved  age 

The  soul  goes  back  to  brood  on  swelling  buds 
Of  hope,  desire,  and  dream,  in  childhood's  clime, 

So  I  turn  backward  to  the  spring-lit  page. 

And  hear  with  freshening  heart  the  deep-voiced 

floods. 
That  to  the  winds  give  their  melodious  rhyme. 

?6 


THE  BUDDING  CHILD 

Here  are  the  budding  boughs  again, 

But  where  the  budding  child," 
That  from  green  slopes  to  greener  shores 

Last  April  was  beguiled? 

Here  is  the  hurrying  stream  again. 

But  where  the  hurrying  feet 
That  vanished  with  the  ebbing  wave 

Last  year  when  spring  was  sweet? 

Into  my  life  the  springtime  came, 

Soft-aired  and  thickly  starred; 
Out  of  my  life  the  springtime  went. 

Though  I  prayed  hard— prayed  hard. 

O  little  life,  with  all  thy  buds 

Close-folded— laid  in  death; 
Would  they  had  oped  in  bloom  and  fruit 

About  thy  mother's  path  ! 

Or  would  that  Faith  might  build  more  strong 

The  bridge  between  my  heart 
And  thy  fair  dwelling-place,  so  thou 

And  spring  should  not  depart. 


27 


SEPARATION 

He  went  upon  a  journey, 
And  she  was  left  at  home; 

And  yet  'twas  he  who  stayed  behind, 
And  she  that  far  did  roam. 

For  though  he  went  by  mountain 
And  wood  and  stream  and  sea, 

A  little  cot  enwrapt  in  green 
He  saw  perpetually. 

And  she  within  the  green  leaves, 
Not  knowing  that  he  stood 

Forever  by  her,  dreamed  her  way 
With  him  by  mount  and  wood. 

Now  heaven  help  these  lovers. 
And  bring  her  safely  home. 

Or  lead  him  back  along  the  track 
Where  shi;,  e'en  now,  doth  roam. 


38 


EARTH'S  SILENCES 

"tI''?V°  ''"J''  ^y  ''""f"'  "oi^"  scarred 
1  he  sfllness  of  the  manyleavid  trees, 

The  quiet  of  green  hills,  the  m.llion-starred 
rranquihty  of  night,  the  endless  seas 

Of  silence  m  deep  wilds,  where  nature  broods 

In  large,  serene,  uninterrupted  moods. 

°'pint'hi°  ''°'^  ""'  °''^"'^'  work-bring  forth 

P.nk  bloom,  green  bud,  red  fruit  and  yellow  leaf 
As  no.seessly  as  gold  proclaims  its  wonh,  ' 

O     plend.d  sun  goes  down  the  glowing  wes  , 
Still  as  forgotten  memories  in  the  breast. 

How  without  panting  effort,  painful  word, 
Comes  the  enchanting  miracle  of  snow, 
Mak  ng  a  sleeping  ocean.     None  have  heard 

For  unto  every  heart,  all  hot  and  wild, 

It  seems  to  say,  "Oh,  hush  thee,  hush,  my  child  " 


29 


THECHICKADEK 

Stout-hearted  bird, 
When  thy  blithe  note  I  heard 
From  out  the  wind-warped  tree — 
Chick-a-deedee — 
There  came  to  me 
A  sense  of  triumph,  an  exultant  breath 
Blown  in  the  face  of  death. 
For  what  are  harsh  and  bitter  circumstances 
When  the  heart  dances, 
And  pipes  to  rattling  branch  and  icy  lea 
Chick-a-dee-dee! 

Sing  loud,  sing  loud. 
Against  that  leaden  cloud, 
That  draggeth  drearily, 
Chickadee-dee. 
Pour  out  thy  free 
Uetiance  to  the  sharpest  winds  that  blow 
And  still  increasinjt  snow. 
By  courage,  faith,  and  joy  art  thou  attended. 
And  most  befriended 

By  thine  own  heart,  that  bubbleth  cheerily, 
Chick-a-dee-dee! 


3° 


I'HK  INDIGO  BIRD 

When  I  see, 
High  on  the  tiptop  twig  of  a  tree 
Something  blue  by  the  breezes  stirred 
But  so  far  up  that  the  blue  is  blurred  ' 
30  far  up  no  green  leaf  flies 
Twixt  its  blue  and  the  blue  of  the  skies 
I  hen  I  know,  ere  a  note  be  heard, 
That  IS  naught  but  the  Indigo  bird. 

Blue  on  the  branch  and  blue  in  the  sky 
And  naught  between  but  the  breezes  high 
And  naught  so  blue  by  the  breezes  stirred' 
As  the  deep,  deep  blue  of  the  Indigo  bird. 

Wlien  I  hear 
A  song  like  a  bird  laugh,  blithe  and  clear, 
As  though  of  some  airy  jest  he  had  heard 
Ihe  last  and  the  most  delightful  word, 
A  laugh  as  fresh  in  the  August  haze 
As  It  was  in  the  full-voiced  April  days, 
Ihen  I  know  that  my  heart  is  stirred 
ay  the  laugh-like  song  of  the  Indigo  bird. 

Joy  in  the  branch  and  joy  in  the  sky. 
And  naught  between  but  the  breezes  high' 
And  naught  so  glad  on  the  breezes  heard  ' 
As  the  gay,  gay  note  of  the  Indigo  bird. 


THE   FISHERMAN 


'^  Hu'i""'*  '""  "  ''"d  'o  read 
Hi.  K  Tl ""***?  »nd  still  ' 
nis  boots  have  rm.k.j 

Oh  early  lifted  he  the  latch 
B„^"'i"l^d  through  dew  away 

'^''f  «„'''"''?*  an  open  mind, 
A  medit-itive  heart; 

In. ,■„,„„„„,  Th,;|,Jow  Ml  ,,,, 

Heard  him  but  sieh   "H«,.,  <  •      '. 

%,,    .   ""' j"gn,   'How  fair  It  si 

That  Th  '^  ^^"  =""  ^ 

Shoul/fl'""^'  1'""  harmonies 
S>hould  flood  the  ear  and  eye'" 

'^cauri'T^"'""'^  he  Smiles: 
J  wught  the  best  of  hours  and  miles." 


32 


THK  I.irri.K  N(Kh\ 

My  life  th.-i;  iiuci  from  cl.irl.  to  dark, 
I'roni  leapirj,'  li„'ht  Ui  loHxriii^'  li^lit, 

.'.Uist  have  its  little  noond.iy  s|i.-irk 
Oi  hcit  and  flAine  beinrc'tlic  iii^ht. 

My  little  noon!  Mow  strori-'  it  seems, 
Hov,'  dazzlin;;  fair  and  deep  its  tide, 

Aivi  yet  a  niillioii  mil' ion  .'earns 

<  >f  day  have  btirned  before  and  died. 

Long,  lon^  .a^'o— a  thousand  years — 
Was  Tear  all  white  and  Ka'-e  all  red? 

Iii.I  I.ove  meet  Love  with  shinin^,-  tears 
I'hat  eased  the  stress  of  word*  unsaid? 

Two  thousand  years  a^'o  did  Ho;ie 
Fly  outward  with  tumultuous  breast? 

\o:\th  wake  at  ni-ht  to  sini;?  A„e  [.-rr    t- 
1  iirov.jh  gathering  daikness  to  liis  I^.^t? 

1  ack  in  tl;e  a^es  past  was  sweet 
As  sweet  as  now?  Did  bi-.tevness 

Mavor  the  very  drink  and  meat? 
l>id  Rapture  wear  her  April  dress? 

Did  strong  men  give  their  hands  tu  mtn, 
Their  hearts  to  women?  Did  the  wife 

Joy  in  her  budding;  secret  then? 

b;>!  children  throng  the  (I  .>■:.•  o':  life? 

Ah,  these  had  all  their  little  nouns, 
^■et  cradled  in  the  earth  they  lie, 

Av.d  still  beside  them  Ocean  croons 
Her  iniinemoria!  liillabv. 


My  little  noon!  How  pale  it  seems! 
Weak  as  a  wave,  faint  as  a  sigh: 

It  looks  the  very  stuff  of  dreams, 
Seen  in  the  light  of  noons  gone  by. 

THE  LONG  DAYS  OF  THE  YEAR 

The  long  days  of  the  year 
Hnw  «veet  they  are  to  the  ear! 
Theha?pywfblgin  them  before  I  awake  from 

And3rly  they  are  ended  by  the  voices  of  the 
Coming'ho-e  in  the  twilight.     Oh,  happy  child 
Kouse^bVa'bird  in  the  morning  and  lulled  at 
night  by  a  lamb. 

The  long  days  of  the  year. 

How  fair  to  the  eye  and  dear!  , 

The  grass  is  thick  in  the  meadows,  the  branches 

And  gln/tt  rJ":-  running  up  to  the  cottage 
Steejng^he  porch  in  perfume.     Oh,  loving  child 
Whef°tSk  an^d  rosy  and  fragrant  my  joys  are 
coming  to  me. 


34 


STARS  AND  ri.OWERS 

The  stars  enchar  i  the  upper  ;,k  es, 
The  flowers  ch  .iii  ihe  feet; 

They  look  into  e<.rh  c.  ther  s  eyes, 
And  flame  and  fragrance  meet. 

So  will  it  be  when  Death  unbars 
These  slender  doors  of  ours, 

And  turns  our  spirits  into  stars. 
Our  bodies  into  flowers. 


AT    DUSK 

The  phantom  time  of  day  is  here. 

Some  spirit  from  diviner  air 
Unto  our  blindness  draweth  near. 

And  in  our  musing  seems  to  share. 

Who  hath  not  in  a  darkening  wood. 
At  twilight's  moment,  dimly  known 

That  all  his  hurts  were  understood 
By  some  near  presence  not  his  own; 

That  all  his  griefs  were  comforted. 
His  aspirations  given  release; 

And  that  upon  his  troubled  head 
Was  laid  the  viewless  hand  of  Peace. 

Too  sure  for  doubt,  too  sweet  for  fear, 
Unfelt  in  days  of  toil  and  stress; 

But  when  the  twilight  brings  it  near 
Who  hath  not  felt  its  tenderness? 


35 


VESrF.RUAV  AM)  TO-DAY 

Hove  met  Youth  in  the  churchyatd  old, 
Under  a   branch    of   hawthorn   blossom; 

Love  gave  Youth  a  fiower  to  hold 

Freshly    grown    from    a    dead    girl's    bosom 

Y'outh  sang  Love  a  heart-warm  rhyriie, 
\Vri;  by  an  ancestor  tiirned  to  ashes; 

And  all  the  song  was  of  blossom  time 

And  the  spting-soft  liglit  'neatli  a  maiden': 
lashes. 


A\  OLD  IXFLUKNCK 

A  child,  I  saw  familiar  things 

In  sweet  imagined  guise; 
For  me  the  clouds  were  .^.igels'  wings, 

The  stars  were  angels'  eyes. 

Not  so  to-day:  the  grassless  ways 

Of  older  years  invite 
No  wings  to  whiten  common  days, 

No  eyes  to  hallow  r.i;h;. 

Yet  when  with  grief  my  he.irt  is  loud, 
Or  harsh  thoughts  leave  their  scar, 

I  feel  reproach  from  every  cloud, 
lleproof  from  every  star. 


IF  ON'K  NJUiHT  LIVK 

If  one  might  live  ten  years  amoiii;  the  leu-es, 
1  en— only  ten— of  all  a  life's  fon'^  dav, 

Who  would  not   choose    a    childhood    'neath  ; 
eaves, 
Low-sloping  to  some  slender  footpath  wav? 

With  the  young  grass  about  his  childish  feet, 
And  the  young  lambs  within  his  ungrown  n  •' 

And  every  streamlet  side  a  pleasure  seat 

Within  the  wide  day's  treasure-house  of  char;; 

To  learn  to  speak  while  voung  birds  learnec; 
sing. 
To  learn  to  run  e'en  as  thev  learned  to  fly 
W  ith  unworn  heart  against  the  breast  of  spri'n  ■■■, 
To  watch  the  moments  smile  as  they  went  by'. 

Knroofed  with  apple  buds  afar  to  roam, 
Or  clover  cradled  on  the  murmurous  sod 

lo  drowse  within  the  blessed  rields  of  home, 
So  near  to  earth— so  very  near  to  Cod. 

How  could  it  matter— all  the  after  strife, 
The  heat,  the  haste,  the  inward  hurt,  the  strair 

Hhen  the  young  loveliness  and  sweet  of  life 
Came  flood-like  back  again  and  yet  again? 

When  best  begins  it  liveth  through  the  worst- 

C)  happy  soul,  beloved  of  Memorv, 
Whose  youth  was  joined  to  beautv.'as  at  first, 

I'he  morning  stars  were  wed  to'  harmony.  ' 


37 


THE    ROADS  OF  OLD 

The  roads  of  old,  how  {air  they  gleamed; 
Kow  long  each  winding  way  was  deemed. 

In  days  gone  by,  how  wondrous  high 
Their  little  hills  and  houses  seemed. 

The  morning  road,  that  led  to  school. 
Was  framed  in  dew  that  clung  as  cool 
To  childish  feet  as  waves  that  beat 
-About  the  sunbeams  in  a  pool; 

The  river  road,  that  crept  beside 
The  dreamy  alder-bordered  tide. 

Where  tish  at  play  on  Saturday 
Left  some  young  hopes  ungratified; 

The  valley  road,  that  wandered  through 
Twin  vales  and  heard  no  wind  that  blew; 

The  cowbell's  clank  from  either  bank 
Was  all  the  sound  it  ever  knew; 

The  woodland  road,  whose  windings  dim 
Were  known  to  watchers  straight  and  slim; 

How  slow  it  moved,  as  if  it  loved 
Each  listening  leaf  and  arching  limb; 

The  market  road,  that  felt  the  charm 
Of  lights  on  many  a  sleepy  farm, 

Whf  n  whirring  clocks  and  crowing  cocks 
Gave  forth  the  market  man's  alarm; 

The  village  road,  that  used  to  drop 
Its  daisies  at  the  blacksmith  shop, 

And  leave  som    trace  of  rustic  grace 
To  tempt  the  busiest  eye  to  stop; 


38 


These  all  renew  their  olden  spell. 
With  rocky  cliff  and  sunny  dell, 

With  purling  brook  and  grassy  nook, 
They  bordered  childhood's  country  well. 

And  we  who  near  them  used  to  dwell, 
<-an  but  the  same  sweet  story  tell 

ThT'' K  °!?  ^^V"  "'^"^  glid-eyed  Content; 
They  bordered  childhood's  country  well. 


y 


THE  SILENT  SNOW 
To-day  the  earth  has  not  a  word  to  speak. 
The  snow  comes  down  as  softly  through  the  air 
As  pitying  heaven  to  a  martyr's  prayeT, 

Th7f.  f  P"^  T'"  '°  ""  bloodless  cheek! 
The  footsteps  of  the  snow,  as  white  and  meek 
As  angel  travelers,  are  everywhere— 

And  on  the  wmd's  trail  o'er  the  moorland  bleak. 

'^^P'  ['^^^  "'^  ™SS^<^  '•oad  as  tenderly 
As  April  venturing  her  first  caress- 

fhey  drown  the  old  earth's   furrowed  griefs 
and  scars  ° 

Within  the  white  foam  of  a  soundless  sea, 
And  bring  a  deeper  depth  of  quietness 
io  graves  asleep  beneath  the  silent  stars 


39 


NOVF.MUKR 

The  old  year's  withered  face  is  here  a^^''"' 
The  twilight  look,  the  look  of  reverie, 
The  backward  gazing  eyes  that  seem  to  see 

The  full-leaved  robin-haunted  June  remain 

Through  devastating  wind  and  ruinous  rain; 
A  form  ti.at  moves  a  little  wearily, 
As  one  who  treads  the  path  of  memory 

Beneath  a  long  year's  load  of  stress  and  stain. 

Good-night!   good-night!  the  dews  are  thick  and 
damp, 
Yet  still  she  babbles  on,  as  loath  to  go. 
Of  apple  buds  and  blooms  that  used  to  be, 
Til!  Indian  Summer  brings  the  bedside  lamp. 
And  underneath  a  covering  of  snov^ 
She  dreams  again  of  April  ecstasy. 


UNHE.\RD  NIAGARAS 

We  live  among  unheard  Niagaras. 
The  force  that  pushes  up  the  meadow  grass. 
That  swells  to  ampler  roundness  ripening  fruit. 
That  lifts  the  brier  ruse,  were  it  not  mute. 
Would  thunder  o'er  the  green  earth's  sunlit  tracts 
More  loudly  than  a  myriad  cataracts. 


-aid 


t, 
•acts, 


si'Nc; 

De.xJ  ler.vcs  in  the  bird's  nt-M, 

Aiul  after  that  the  snow; 
That  WAS  wlitre  the  bird's  brc,-.-,t 

rendcily  did  j;o, 
'Aliere  the  tiny  birds  pressed 

Lovinj;]y — and  lo! 
Dead  leaves  in  the  bird's  ne,: 

Under  failing  snosv. 

Uead  leaves  in  the  heart's  ne-t, 

And  after  that  the  snow; 
'I'hat  was  where  the  heart's  ;;.:e-t 

IJrooded  months  ago. 
Where  the  tender  thoughts  prt~-ed 

I.ovinjjly — and  lol 
Head  Ie;vcs  in  the  heart's  nest 

I'nder  faiiin'  sno-.v. 


WINTKR  SUN'SET 

The  eyes  like  the  lips  have  their  choice  of  wints, 
And  one  that  tingles  and  cheers  they  know; 

A  sky  that  burns  through  a  bar  of  pines 
On  a  v.intry  world  of  snow. 

Ah,  what  are  the  empty  eglantines, 
And  what  the  desolate  earth  below, 

When  the  sky  is  ablaze,  and  aflame  the  pines, 
And  rosilv  glennis  the  snow? 


THE  DESERTED  HOUSE 

With  sagging  door  and  staring  window-place, 
And  sunken  roof,  it  stands  among  its  trees. 

Befriended  by  the  boughs  that  interlace 
Between  it  and  the  light  ghost-footed  breeze. 

Poor  human  nest,  how  desolately  torn! 

Yet  in  these  ragged  rooms  voung  children  slept. 
And  on  this  floor,  all  broken  and  forlorn. 

The  baby  with  the  sunshine  daily  crept. 

See  where  some  older  "Ruth"  and  "Archie"  stood, 
And  marked  their  names  a  yard  space  from  the 
ground. 

That  little  height  where  all  of  sweet  and  good 
Within  the  narrow  plot  of  home  is  found. 

Such  tiny  sleeping  rooms,  with  space  for  naught 
Except  a  place  to  dress,  a  place  to  dream, 

A  book,  a  little  shelf,  a  good  night  thought, 
A  childish  treasure  brought  from  field  or  stream. 

Upon  this  curbstone,  picking  bit  by  bit 
The  grass  that  grew  before  the  cottage  door. 

The  blessed  baby  sat,  examining  it 
As  one  who  ne'er  had  seen  its  like  before. 

Here  by  the  window  in  her  willow  chair. 
The  mother  sewed  and  sang  a  low  refrain. 

Are  those  the  patches  from  her  piece-bag  there .' 
Nay,  they  are  leaves  that  blew  in  with  the  rain' 


42 


I 

laught         I 


Th  J  leaves  blow  in,  the  moss  is  on  the  roof 
The  squirrels  bring   their   treasures  from    the 
boughs, 

The  storm  comes,  and  with  dull  unhastening  hoof. 
Into  this  partial  shelter  stray  the  cows. 

Ah,  come  away!   Some  woman's  youth  lies  heie, 
Some  man's  fair  childhood,  dead  but   wondrous 
sweet, 

^°T}lu'^  "•''  '^°^  ''^^  sheltered  holds  it  dear, 
And  fills  It  with  old  loves  and  joys  complete. 

What  right  have  we  to  pry  or  speculate' 
The  sun  goes  down,  the  twilight,  like  a  pall, 

tncloseth  ruined  house  and  porch  and  gate 
And  tender  darkness  broodeth  over  all. 


43 


NOVKMUI'.R  AND   DECKMliER 

November  .inil  December,  and  ajain 

November  and  December  as  before; 

Dead  season  on  dead  season,  o'er  .-^nd  o'er. 
Till  leariessness  becomes  most  leafless.  Then 
Naught  for  the  lips,  except  the  sad  Amen, 

Naught  for  the  eyes,  except  the  darkened  door. 

And  for  this  pleasant  House  of  Leaves  no  mi.;>- 
The  summer  breezes  with  theit  light  refrain. 

November  and  December — ah,  I  hear 
Like  unto  heavy,  sobbing  winds,  the  old 
Novembers  and  Decembers  mourn  aloud. 
No  red  leaf  li^fhts  the  darkness  of  the  year, 
lint  only  tire  that  grips  the  heart  of  cold. 
At  1  itars  that  burn  behind  a  world  of  cloud. 


A  WINTER  I'ICTUKE 

Ail  air  as  sharp  as  steel,  a  sky 

Pierced  with  a  million  points  of  fire; 

The  level  fields,  haid,  white  and  dry, 
A  road  as  straight  and  tense  as  wire. 

No  hint  of  human  voice  or  face 

In  frost  below  or  tire  above. 
Save    where    the    smoke's   blue   billoA-ing    grace 

I'lies  ti.i:;Iikc  from  the  roofs  of  love. 


44 


o  er, 
Then 

n, 

ned  doi 
3  no  mi.: 
ain. 


Did 

iloud. 

ar, 

lid, 

I  of  clone 


THK  I'ASsINu  VKAK 

Ih;.'  feast  is  over,  tb.e  quests  are  tkd; 

It  is  time  to  be  ok!,  it  is  time  for  I)ed. 

Tlie  wind  has  blown  out  every  li^jht. 

And  the  pleasure  garden  is  turned  t)  llixl't. 

The  trees  like  pulTed-out  candles  stand, 

And  the  smoke  of  tlieir  darkness  is  ovur  the  l.i- 

Heavily  hand's  the  drowsy  held. 

Heavily  drooj)  the  laslies: 
To  bedl  to  bed:     Let  prayers  be  slid 
And  cover  the  tire  with  asiits. 

How  the  pipers  piped,  and  the  dancers  He\, 

I'lieir  hearts  were  pipin„'  and  dancin;;.  too. 

W  ine  of  the  sun  and  sp-el!  of  tlie  stream, 

liids  in  an  ecstasy,  dowers  thai  teem, 

(\11  jione  by;  now  the  quiet  sky 

1  ooksdownon  the  earth  where  tl'.i  srow  n.;i~:  iii-. 

Heavily  hanj;s  t'lc  drowsv  l.L-ad, 

Heavily  droop  the  la^';i..>; 
To  bed!  to  bed!      Let  •/■ravi-r,--  be  s'.ld 

And  cover  the  Ore  v.i;ii  ashe^. 


■15 


